


Silyaban

by viyeolent (tasittliv)



Series: Daranganan [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Very loosely inspired by Game of Thrones, tribe au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasittliv/pseuds/viyeolent
Summary: The world speaks of the Fire King as a grave threat, only because it sees the Fire and not the King.But Baekhyun already knows that all Kings are merely mortal men blessed with tremendous powers to wield, and so he shall see the King and not the Fire, and never again shall he be the impressionable fool to only believe what the books and the scholars say.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Series: Daranganan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691812
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	Silyaban

When Baekhyun wakes the next day, he doesn't get to move.

The pain is still there. It's a terrible, aching weight that is heavy from the waist down. It is the only thing that distracts him from the events of last night; the only thing that can truly remind him why he feels _used_ and so, _so_ wronged. The mere _thought_ of spending another night to consummate this new union with a foreign chieftain, to spread his legs for another man as if it were a simple matter of washing the feet of a high-born lord, is enough to reduce Baekhyun to tears.

But, this is his life now. Last night is only the first of many nights. Baekhyun already dreads _all_ that are yet to come.

Before he can feel sorry for himself, sunlight suddenly pours into the tent. The unfamiliar man sees him immediately for there is no one else there. Baekhyun had assumed that the tent was afforded to him, that it were only for the use of the Il-Yeokan leader who had spent the night with him. After all, the tribe seemed to steer clear of their path upon arrival at the Il-Yeokan camp, not even daring to risk looking their leader in his red eyes.

The stranger seems to weigh his own options, undisturbed by Baekhyun's nudity but visibly considerate of the intimacy of the space, before stepping inside.

Baekhyun eyes the stranger warily, he cannot trust anyone anymore, but pain suddenly shoots up his spine. He hisses immediately. He grits through the pain, and he forces himself to scoot deeper into the bed made out of beast hide, pulling the quilt to cover himself.

The stranger, an Il-Yeokan warrior bearing the customary markings of the tribe on the bronzen skin of his arms, steps forward with a wooden bowl in tow. Recognizing his discomfort, the man warily bridges the remaining distance. Then the man presents the bowl to him, as if it were an offering. 

“W-what is it…?” Baekhyun croaks to the stranger, who has neither eyes nor fire as red as the infamous Fire King’s, before he glances down.

In the bowl… it's…? It has soup in it, he supposes. It appears to be soup, anyway. There are vegetables and chunks of tender meat swimming in the weird, thick broth of… green. It reminds him of jade, if it ever were to have liquid form. He _really_ hopes it's just some manner of cloudy, exotic soup. 

“Food,” the warrior confirms with an unpolished Lumine accent and an obvious discomfort with the lone syllable.

Baekhyun mumbles a _thank you_ and hopes that it's something that doesn't take a warrior's stomach to consume _._

The Il-Yeokan nods and watches as Baekhyun accepts the supposed food. The warrior bides his time, waiting until Baekhyun has taken his first sip before turning to leave. Baekhyun would have let him go, had the young prince not realized that the man just spoke to him.

The warrior had just responded to him.

In _his_ language.

“Wait!” Baekhyun cries frantically, feeling like his chest is going to burst as the man the sun has kissed pauses. The warrior turns to look back, staring at him with a gaze that is barely indifferent. “You understood me. You just answered me, didn't you?”

The warrior stares at him for a long moment before nodding. “Yes,” the man cautiously replies. “I can... speak your tongue.”

“W-will you stay then? Please. Please, don't leave yet-”

“ _Hari_ will want to know that you are awake,” the man is quick to dutifully turn him down. “You are _dayang_. You belong to the _hari._ He will come. _”_

“Then… will you return? After you tell him... ? Will you come back too?”

“Perhaps.”

And with that, Baekhyun is left alone again.

  
  


The Il-Yeokan wear tattoos on their person.

To a sheltered prince like Baekhyun, the markings are harsh and jagged lines cutting across the canvas of skin. They are wild, fierce, and intimidating. Most importantly, perhaps, they are absolutely befitting of a people whom the world deems the same. The Il-Yeokan are the fire that shall someday set the world ablaze, according to a book he once read. His mentors would go on and on about the tribe’s practice of marking and destroying the living temples that Mama has blessed. 

His mate, the Fire King, wears the markings as well. The King has them in very deep reds, vibrant like the richest purees and yet also as dark as fresh blood. They're gold and obsidian, slithering across strong arms and intensifying every dip and cut and swell of muscle, as if the man were the gates to contain hellfire itself. Those markings that Baekhyun had seen on the warrior from this morning possessed less finesse, less elegance. They were colder, in a way. Everything and everyone else becomes colder in comparison to his mate, the man who the rest of the world regards as the _Fire King_ in hushed, wary whispers.

The warrior spoke of a _hari_. Baekhyun idly wonders if _hari_ is what the Il-Yeokan calls the man he has lain with, the man who is supposed to be his and whom he now belongs to. He wonders if the Il-Yeokan look upon his mate and indeed see a king as well. If the Il-Yeokan do not see a king, then Mama help the world until the tribe finds a man worthy of the title.

There's another word from last night that Baekhyun remembers. He hears it again when he wakes for the fourth time today.

_Dayang_.

He hears _Dayang_ being uttered by a deep voice, in a tone so solemn, after his mate enters the tent and he finds himself the sole focus of red eyes once more.

Baekhyun makes and feels himself small as the man approaches and the quilt is lifted from his aching body. The Il-Yeokan king glances at the empty bowl, rather pleased, then at him, gaze raking slowly over inches of fair but sore skin. A little pained noise escapes Baekhyun when he's urged to sit; to move from where he lies on his stomach.

His mate frowns then, instantly freeing him. The tent is so quiet that he hears the man take a particularly deeper breath.

The… tribe has to leave now, doesn't it? The palace has handed him over and they have consummated their union last night, haven't they? It's the Il-Yeokan’s turn to fulfill their part now by leaving. For a _savage_ , the Il-Yeokan king surprisingly seems keen on fulfilling an oath, and if they were to leave then of course he… he has to leave with them.

“… It hurts,” Baekhyun quietly says, afraid to look directly into his lover’s eyes and see disappointment. “If you wish to reach the next kingdom… then…”

He had felt shame for having been pathetic last night. What kind of partner loses his consciousness during the first night together? Utterly, unforgivably pathetic. Now he feels so ashamed for being useless.

Baekhyun would not fault this man if he were to throw him out for the horses to trample on. The Fire King may demand for another more useful, more experienced beacon of light then. But then, if he were to be killed, what reason is enough for his supposed mate to not murder the next?

Baekhyun doesn't mean to cry in front of his mate again, in front of someone that even _all_ the corners of the world fears, and not _this_ soon, but being in the presence of the man who _had taken so much from him without even knowing,_ he doesn't know what to think. There's _so much_ to think of and only one of him, so much of the world he's seeing now, and only fifteen years of incarceration in a castle tower to let Lumine’s royal family save face.

He can't even do that, can he? He can't even carry himself with dignity. He's a boy, not a man. First day and he's already a burden. He can't even fulfill his duty as another man's bed warmer properly. _How useless._

“Will you leave? If you can understand me even just a little, please,” Baekhyun wishes he had something to hide himself with, something big and would gobble him up and never spit him out again, because he doesn't feel ready to face this… _person_ and accept him or _any of this_ just yet. “ _Please_ just leave me. I shall only ask for a few more moments by myself. But for now, please, please, please _don't look at me_.”

His king responds by pulling the quilt farther when he tries to reach for it, throwing it away altogether when he insists on it. The man looks at him, stern. Baekhyun dares not say paternal, even if the prince knows the former is older than he is. Much, _much_ older.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry it’s I they gave to you, I'm sorry, but please, _please_ let me-” Baekhyun cries, a crumpled mess of boy and youth in the middle of a vast cot of the softest hides that the wilderness has to offer. “I know I am in no place to ask, but please, spare me from shame. Take me with a veil over my head.”

Stop _. Not_ this _again. Cease your tears and wipe your face before you weep like you did last night._

He hears the Il-Yeokan sigh, a very deep and burdened sigh just like that from last night, before he's told what seems to sound like another _An’tah na_ and he feels hot spreading over the small of his back. There's a hot palm kneading the ache there, massaging his tender flesh until the pain eases and almost entirely dissipates.

It… feels great. He can sense the light in him becoming fond of it. 

Baekhyun stops crying, but continues to sniff and breathe fragile breaths when the soothing heat begins to work its way downwards, to where he still hurts. His mate mutters something incomprehensible under his own breath, sounding aggravated, and yet the touch remains… gentle. The touch is _careful_ , even, especially when he’s urged to widen the gap between his legs.

Baekhyun reluctantly obeys, instantly tensing at the sensation of a hand sliding further and further down. 

There are fingers. Again. So close.

_Too close._

“Stop,” Baekhyun whimpers. “That's-that’s enough. _Stop._ Please.”

_Dayang_ , his mate says again, reprimanding this time, as the man pauses his ministrations. 

Cold shoots through him when the bed dips and he's being turned on his back, sprawled underneath a warrior’s bigger, battle-hardened body. His own body trembles, frightened and stiff and expecting the relief to be replaced with twice the pain. Whether it's atop a pile of fresh corpses or a virgin, no wonder men like his mate are feared.

Oh.

But he only gets… lips on his neck.

Warm… and soft. 

The man doesn't peel off the only layer of clothing left to separate them, only kisses the side of his neck down to the base of his throat until the cold is gone.

Then there's heat, _very_ pleasant heat that makes his light feel like a buzzing. 

Baekhyun shivers and mewls, terribly confused by the difference in the way his body writhes this time around and the sounds that escape his mouth. All he suddenly wants is... _more_. Whatever it is, he wants the heat for himself. He wants _so much more_ of it.

He wraps his legs around the Fire King's waist in an attempt to pull the latter closer. His mate takes it as encouragement. Baekhyun himself isn't sure if it is, but the soft sigh most likely is. It's relieving, almost liberating. 

Baekhyun drags his slender fingers downwards, not quite decisive about where his hands are supposed to rest, but he appreciates each dip, each ridge of a hard abdomen beneath his fingertips when he finds them. It’s warm. He feels very warm.

Why does it feel this way? What is this…? Is he-

Is he burning…? Is his mate burning him?

_Could_ he burn alive from a simple touch?

His mate hushes him once he starts to become nervous again.

Large and rough fingers tentatively slip inside Baekhyun, carefully stretching the ring of muscles to push a little deeper inside. The little prince moans at the digits making slow rubbing movements against his sore walls, soothing and chasing the pain away little by little until it all goes away. Leaving him breathless was only to distract him. The moment that the pain ebbs away, the man on top of him draws back and takes away with him the heat and the strange yet pleasant feeling.

Nothing hurts anymore but Baekhyun feels so empty, so _unsatisfied._ His light wants the heat back. He's… he's not sure if _he_ wants the heat back.

He does. He doesn't. He doesn't understand what he's feeling.

While he takes deep breaths to soothe himself, Baekhyun vaguely feels the desire to hide. His mate doesn't leave and, instead, watches him from the corner of their bed.

He is not used to being watched this closely and not so blatantly, not without abhorrence. He knows he looks nothing like Lumine’s true royalty. Unlike all of his siblings, he doesn't have the moon’s beauty in his hair and the light of the stars in his eyes. Instead, he is the spitting image of a prostitute who loved someone she could not have, he is nothing more than a royal bastard with Mama’s light.

If… if anyone has to be… _admired_ , it's the one who has a pyre for a heart. It’s the man whose appearance alone would inspire bards to sing. His king, who's staring at him, _just quietly staring at him,_ should find a crystal lake and realize he is the embodiment of Mama’s most magnificent creations.

And yet, the Il-Yeokan only continues watching him, as if he were as special and as worthy of admiration as fire and life itself.

_“Dayang,”_ his mate says, and it almost sounds so sweet and fond. It is in the same manner of speaking that he used to hear one of his father's king speak towards his lady. It's strange to hear it from a supposed pillager and murderer. 

“I want to know your name,” Baekhyun continues to babble as he stares at a lean, naked back and marked arms, a little self-satisfied with the pause his warrior makes before the latter leaves. 

At least this time, with the Il-Yeokan… when his mate ignores him or chooses not to listen, at least he knows it's because the man truly cannot understand him. When he tells the man to stay and the man doesn't, at least he knows that his mate doesn't mean the rejection that the gesture makes him feel afterwards. It's a small relief, being unintentionally ignored, but when one speaks, it is only natural for it to be followed by the expectancy, the palpable hope, that one will be heard.

He speaks, and speaks, and speaks some more, without ever being understood. He feels so helpless.

Baekhyun falls asleep again. There is no other choice.

It's at dawn when he rouses with a body that strangely feels so much better, good enough to travel on horseback. He leaves the tent for the first time and finds that all the campfires have already been smothered. Everyone and their stallions are ready to leave. 

The Il-Yeokan seem to greatly anticipate leaving as much as his own kingdom does.

"Dayang!" Baekhyun hears a deep voice eagerly call out before he's greeted by his mate and the warrior from yesterday morning, who is leading two handsome stallions towards him.

Although he becomes anxious at his king suddenly eradicating the distance between them, he lets the man nuzzle against him. He lets the Il-Yeokan card a palm through his hair and press a soft kiss against his forehead. If he were a huge and optimistic fool, he would like to believe that the hands on his waist are there because his king is relieved to see him able to walk again. 

Maybe he could fool himself that this man feels some secret amount of affection for him. But his mate isn't smiling, and neither is the warrior watching them. Maybe it's Il-Yeokan tradition.

Even so, Baekhyun still feels like he's doing something wrong. Maybe _he's_ what's wrong.

His mate turns to the warrior, speaking in their foreign tongue, before the warrior steps forward, “ _Hari_ wishes to know what you spoke to him last night.”

“N-nothing,” Baekhyun flushes, instantly remembering the embarrassment he had been and suddenly becomes very self-conscious about being the focus of two pairs of eyes. “I said nothing. Mere gibberish. My apologies.”

“I see,” The warrior seems unconvinced. “Then is there anything that _you_ wish to ask of _Hari_?”

Baekhyun swallows, nervous as he glances between the two older men. His stomach is both churning and flipping. The palms on his hips are warm, as if telling him to relax, while the man beside him urges him to speak. Ah, how his mate’s eyes put roses to shame.

“His name,” Baekhyun answers. “I’d like to know his name.”

After the warrior makes his wish known, he shyly looks away because his mate lowers himself for him, leaning close to speak to him. A king's name he indeed gets after his man’s arms have loosely wrapped around his waist and after he finds his hand in another's.

Chanyeol.

The man of fire calls himself _Chanyeol_.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun repeats, looking up at his mate and waiting for any indication of approval.

It comes in the form of a ghost of a small smile on his mate's lips, and then the shortest of kisses. Like a reward, he thinks, when he opens his eyes and looks straight into red, made brighter by the backdrop of dawn.

His light becomes ecstatic, being this close to the Il-Yeokan. His light, _his proud, proud light_ , adores this man's fire. He envies its simplicity and wishes he could accept this in the same pace.

Baekhyun is wistful when he is informed of their departure and he recognizes Chanyeol’s stallion.

The horse seems to dislike him. At least, it seems to only tolerate him because it's Chanyeol who lets him climb it again. He finds that a little disheartening. Life in the palace didn't allow him to explore and experience many things, including caring for an animal companion.

The warrior rides almost alongside them. The man must serve like his father’s advisers, Baekhyun assumes, as he hesitantly leans against Chanyeol's chest and lets his light coo at the fire.

The tribe leaves before dawn fully breaks.

Baekhyun silently bids one last farewell to the kingdom he once called home.

Baekhyun remembers having eaten only the meat from yesterday’s green broth. It was salty, the broth, but the meat was tender and a pleasant surprise to his palate. He wants it.

He wants _lots_ of it.

Chanyeol stops the stallion suddenly, almost making him slip off the saddle if not for the arm around his waist. He realizes he's been napping heavily the entire time despite the sun bearing down on them. He feels so tired.

“ _Hari_ wishes to know if you are hungry,” inquires the tanned warrior from behind them.

Ah… yes. Yes he is.

Baekhyun hasn't had anything since the broth from yesterday morning. He's starving. He groans a mindless complaint to Chanyeol, who frowns and replies to the warrior on his behalf. He hears more strange words so uniquely… _angry_ sounding that they can only be attributed to the Il-Yeokan tongue, before he's peeking at the warrior through his half-lidded eyes.

The warrior asks further, “What do you wish to eat?”

“Meat. I want something savory and tender to bite,” Baekhyun swallows, rubbing his eyes. “Anything. I just want to eat.”

_Anything, for as long as it's meat and flavorful in my mouth._

Chanyeol pacifies his whining with palms on his thighs. He doesn't know how the man does it, but he could almost feel his light being appeased and gurgling in contentment. It encourages him to let the man embrace him, to sleep in Chanyeol's arms.

Sleep is the last thing he wants, however, when a hand slips underneath his tunic and rubs his soft belly. Baekhyun gasps and feels his light jump with him, albeit for a different reason.

“Lyon is two days away,” the warrior states as he simultaneously turns a blind eye to them.

Baekhyun wills his uneasy heart to still, not quite liking the way his mate strokes his abdomen at any time the man desires for it. It makes him uneasy that his mate would touch him where everyone can see them. He knows he can't do anything about it though, aside from giving his mate something else to hold, like his hand. It feels like the fire is licking his palm when he _does_ offer his hand. Then his king pulls him a little closer to the man’s chest, an attempt to pacify his own fire, because they both feel their elements stir and purr at each other.

Baekhyun squirms, trying to distract the bigger hand that inches lower down between his legs with his own smaller fingers. If it's any guarantee, whether for his life or the future, Chanyeol likes him for his light.

Chanyeol likes _him_ enough, Baekhyun supposes, that his craving suddenly seems to hold more significance to whether or not the tribe heads for Lyon.

Lyon is quite known for being the merchant's highway, contributing to its reputation of quality barter meat and delicious produce albeit unusual in appearance. It's one of Geo’s smaller colonies that is more of a province and is almost neglected, really, but it's a land that still thrives on its own and is home to emigrant Gës and natives with an affinity to the earth. The Gës are a mighty and peaceful people, reflected by their colossal stone walls and preference for pacifism, diplomacy, and defenses. No other race could harden nor make better use of the land Mama created. The early Gës were the golden caretakers of Mama’s first creations, just as the Il-Yeokan were said to be the world’s first judge and executioner.

Just thinking about the past banquets he's had in the palace makes Baekhyun's mouth water. Every now and then, Lyon sends his kingdom some of its best harvests in exchange of light for their plants to grow. Many of the Gës inhabit underground fortresses and, thus, have need for supplies of light that aren’t the sun.

Oh, Baekhyun already misses the thick cuts of Lyon’s wild steak, lightly drizzled with the royal kitchen’s own blend of herbs and spices. The soups were excellent and hearty and the vegetables in them were always just the right crunch and hint of sweetness. He wants that. He wants _all_ the dishes Lyon’s natives can offer.

Baekhyun realizes his mindless mumbling after he feels Chanyeol straighten behind him. He swears that he also feels the man’s excitement when the fire gets warmer on his back, before the warrior is nodding to him.

“You shall have it,” the Il-Yeokan with the cold tattoos tells Baekhyun. “ _Hari_ promises you shall have the feast you crave.”

“Truly?” Baekhyun looks up to meet his mate's eyes when he hears it. He leans into his king's touch, but at the back of his mind, he questions himself whether he deserves to have something to look forward to so soon.

As if able to sense his thoughts, Chanyeol embraces him, with arms so wonderfully warm, before his promised lover kisses his nape.

Baekhyun hears his mate whisper something that almost sounds like a vow.

Baekhyun feels restless, giddy, and almost unable to sleep again until evening drapes over the sky to hide the sun and his mate carries him into their tent.

Chanyeol kisses him over and over, as if a starved man finally given water, until he feels like he's being smothered by heat mixed with something he has yet to learn the word for.

Baekhyun is catching his breath when the man spreads him on their bed, flat on his back and nude, with legs nervous and shaky as his heels rest almost on Chanyeol's shoulders. He almost wets himself, anxious for what's to come. He expects tremendous pain if Chanyeol desires to be inside him tonight, especially when the man pulls the binds of his breeches free and slowly drags a hot palm to remove them from his legs. He sees another smile ghost over Chanyeol's face when he trembles at being exposed, at having hands all over his warm, supple skin.

Baekhyun can hear his heart drumming while his mate explores his body, as if the man hasn't seen him naked before, and closes his eyes the moment he hears the pants surrounding the latter's hips drop to the ground.

This is it. Chanyeol is going to take him tonight. Chanyeol is going to take him again.

At least, this time he knows there will be pain. Now he knows the pain of being torn apart from the inside, but knowing is still not the least bit comforting. If anything, it makes things more complicated for him.

His king adores his light, this he is more than sure of than he is sure about his king adoring him as a person. Chanyeol has given him food, has dissipated the burn of intercourse in him, and has kept him away from the other Il-Yeokan men who eye him blatantly with carnal curiosity. Chanyeol himself finds him above being tolerable, perhaps, but it does not take away the hurt of laying with him. What kind of libidinous man would take a liking towards a virgin like him?

Chanyeol promised him a feast. Maybe it's not a promise, but a deal. Maybe from now on, he shall pay for his wants by indulging Chanyeol’s desires.

Sex.

Chanyeol wants him for sex, however humiliatingly inexperienced he may be. Chanyeol wants him because being with a pure-blooded beacon, a prince of the Kingdom of Lumina, means that Chanyeol doesn't have to face the consequence of fire consuming a lover in the process. Fire and light exist together, after all.

Baekhyun knew. He knows. He's a sensible boy, so he knows he’s here to appease the Il-Yeokan tribes by pleasing their leader.

Nonetheless, he is saddened by the thought. It would mean that he _is_ being used. Chanyeol’s knuckles brushing along his inner thighs while kissing him would mean that this is nothing more than another exchange.

Chanyeol wants the light in his blood, not him. It won't be anything more than that. And yet, when Chanyeol steps back, stares at him and the rising and falling of his chest, and breathes the word _Dayang_ in the most revering way he has ever heard anyone speak, it makes Baekhyun want to believe that it’ll get better.

He wants to believe the pain isn't going to last as long as his fear tells him. He wants to believe Chanyeol will see him as more than the vessel of the light that Chanyeol’s fire has been yearning for. He wants to believe that this pain, if and when it comes, wouldn't be as pointless as the pain that he felt while he still lived in a palace filled with people who called his existence a mistake.

“Lyon has never seen a man like you,” He tells Chanyeol, who pauses from between his legs and looks at him questioningly. “They will find your red eyes beautiful because there's only earthiness of brown and green in Lyon.”

Chanyeol doesn't nod, because Chanyeol doesn't understand the words he speaks, but Baekhyun feels that the man is listening when the latter lies on top of him and allows him to tentatively roam his hands over what part of Chanyeol's back he can reach. The embrace Baekhyun finds himself in and the hips grinding sinfully against him makes his light crazy, but he refuses to let himself savor this.

Baekhyun refuses to feel good about this just yet, even when Chanyeol’s touch just seems to transform the melancholy into the makings of a fluttering and a tight heat in his belly.

Chanyeol kisses him again, a peck on the lips this time instead of nips all over his neck, and huskily whispers to him whenever he stops speaking. It almost feels like he _can_ just talk and talk, that no matter what or how heavy, his mate would just listen to him speak his mind. Whether it's about Lyon or how he's already missing the baby brother he left behind, Chanyeol listens to him even though the only thing that the man understands is the voice that becomes smaller and smaller the more words there are and the longer this moment seems to last.

When his voice finally cracks, Chanyeol stops.

Baekhyun shakes his head and hides his face. Talking relieves him and Chanyeol’s gestures strangely make him feel safe, somewhat, but Chanyeol is fully hard now and the man’s pride is hot against his skin. It makes him so scared.

His light wants it. _He_ wants it but he also _doesn’t_ want it. Right now, he's also scared of sex and the pain that comes with it.

“Please. Please, just-just do it,” He says, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes close, especially when Chanyeol takes the heat and tries to pry his hand away. “I won't cry. I-I’ll do better tonight.”

He knows his responsibility as his little kingdom’s ransom. He won't deny such a powerful man. He has _no right_ to deny a man pleasure with him when they are _mates_ now, but oh _Mama_ , when will he be able to accept this fully?

Upon realizing that Baekhyun has full intentions of being stubborn, the king of the Il-Yeokan tribes obliges. Chanyeol flips him, and Baekhyun finds himself on his shaky hands and knees. Just to be done with it, Baekhyun knows.

He fears that the man has had enough of stretching his own patience thin for his childishness because he catches a glimpse of his mate frowning, _really_ frowning. He hears a low growl, almost feral, before he finds his face shoved down the bed and his entire being trembles. Chanyeol swiftly sheathes himself inside of him.

Then there is _fire_ , sweltering and scalding, and Baekhyun silently _screams_ in pain, crying and wailing in broken gasps as he feels the strength leave his body.

It's Chanyeol's turn to speak words he cannot understand now, each being punctuated by the violent slapping of skin against skin to join their bodies together. He can feel the king of fire’s tight grip on his hips, his king’s lips and hot breath on his back. Chanyeol calls him _Dayang_ over and over again, in raspy growls and hushed whispers, but all that he understands from this man's gestures, in that moment, is the word _mine._

Mine.

Mine.

Mine—

_Mine,_ as if Chanyeol is trying to carve his own name onto him tonight. _Ku_ means _mine_ , and Baekhyun calls Chanyeol _king,_ almost his new _god_ , above the sounds of his own helplessness as he pleads to the man and his light.

It's too hot, _Chanyeol's hands, Chanyeol's skin.._. Chanyeol himself _feels_ like fire. His light wants to tear out of his skin to be with the fire underneath the Il-Yeokan’s. Baekhyun is scared of it coming true; that, as Chanyeol enters him, again and again and in such _hard_ , powerful snaps of hips to meet his, he's not _just_ someone to share Chanyeol's bed.

It feels like Chanyeol's hands are tracing ancient prayers onto his skin, that Chanyeol's fire is demanding him to become an offering for his mate to have and consume.

It's _too hot_ , Baekhyun cries. He feels himself clenching tight around his king's manhood as it pushes deep, _pushes_ into him until he sees white. Another sharp thrust in the same spot has Baekhyun seeing stars; the _moon_ . He sees a whole sky with each hard and deliberate movement, each buck of his hips as he discovers how painful and yet also _wonderful_ it could feel to have a man inside of him.

“ _Chanyeol_ ,” Baekhyun gasps, because it's too _good_. He wants _more_ of it, _now,_ and he has half the mind to protest when his mate pulls himself out.

Before he could begin to cry, to _demand_ , Chanyeol lifts him. His mate pulls him backwards, onto the man's lap, and he willingly leans back against his mate's chest this time. He can feel the latter’s proud cock rubbing against his backside, teasing his twitching entrance.

Baekhyun startles himself when a strange sound escapes him for the very first time. A _moan_. And it's followed by another when lips latch against the side of his neck, sucking until a bruise forms. Chanyeol licks over the tender patch of skin and moves on, leaving more bruises in the wake of his experienced lips.

Baekhyun sighs, needy and desperate. He feels ashamed of himself for liking this; for already craving more of that amazing feeling. He covers his mouth with his hands in hopes of denying this part of him, but Chanyeol doesn't let him. Chanyeol rips his hand away from his vile mouth, trapping them each in his own bigger palms, before pressing their bodies even closer together. 

It's a sin. His mentors taught him pleasuring himself was a sin, but Baekhyun cannot bring himself to stop, let alone care, when his mate brings his hands down to rub between his own legs. Baekhyun exhales, eyes wet and skin flushed as Chanyeol teaches him to palm his own cock, to touch himself, while Chanyeol's warm and larger hands slide down to the hips that are moving out of their own volition.

Despite Chanyeol's hands to guide him, Baekhyun whimpers at the trembling in his knees and legs as he sinks down, inch by hard and throbbing inch, to devour his king's cock in full. Baekhyun groans at the slow and careful pace by which this man enters him. Baekhyun's pants and whimpers, inhaling and exhaling deeply at being stretched to his limit. A warrior as huge as Chanyeol is still too much for a young boy like him. But Baekhyun manages, somehow, and after what seems to be the longest moment of his life, he's stretched and filled with the Fire King's pride.

“Don't… don't move yet,” Baekhyun pleads as a bead of tear rolls down his cheek.

Without needing to understand him, Chanyeol whispers in his ear to take his mind off the pain and discomfort. The Il-Yeokan even embraces him and resumes to trail kisses from his nape to his shoulders, kissing each bite and bruise. Chanyeol's hand slithers downwards to palm him, stroking Baekhyun’s leaking member and greatly alleviating the uncomfortable feeling.

Baekhyun sighs once more as he rests against Chanyeol's hard chest. He releases a cross between another sigh and a vulgar moan once the pain becomes tolerable, enough for him to bravely experiment with the cock snugly in him. It’s tight and so hot inside him, and he feels a curious tinge of pride when he rolls his hips and immediately elicits a heavy groan from his king. He rolls once, twice, thrice more, loving how incomprehensible Chanyeol sounds, until he _hits_ it.

Baekhyun finds _that_ spot inside him again, the spot that makes himself shudder and see stars. Something inside him, _already_ a part of his body, makes sin so _desirable_ that nothing else suddenly matters. Desperation drips from his lips, one after another, and so soon he's a writhing mess on Chanyeol's lap, screaming like one of his half-brothers’ harlots as Chanyeol grips his hips again, fingers hurting the flesh beneath. Baekhyun quickly learns to ride his mate's huge cock for both of their benefit.

Just when Baekhyun thinks the heat could not possibly be more between them, Chanyeol pumps his boyhood in perfectly tight strokes. Fast, hard, _tight_ and so, _so good_.

“Ch-Chanyeol–ah! N-no! Ah! _No_ , _Chanyeol_ –” Baekhyun cries in _ecstasy_. it _hurts_ to even breathe, but if _this_ is how it feels to sin, then he shall gladly burn. His light approves of it. There's no one else it has ever desired before.

Chanyeol is the only one his light wants for him.

With Chanyeol, Baekhyun learns the sweetness of release. He learns how insignificant the teachings of old men are when pit against the pleasures of the body, when Baekhyun stares at the ropes of his own cum coating his king's hand and he's left panting and weak and _trembling_ in the best of ways.

The pain he felt seems to be such a distant memory now when his light _purrs_ in absolute delight; when Chanyeol caresses the softness of his belly and he _knows_ Chanyeol is filling him up with a fire king's seed. There's the buzzing again, like his element knows to play coy, before they both feel that the warmth seeping in him is enough. Baekhyun quickly misses his mate's size when Chanyeol finally slides out of him.

Then he sees red. There's so much more of the brilliance of red when the bed beneath them gives birth to embers. It—

It catches _fire_ under Chanyeol's skin. The _bed_ is burning. _Chanyeol_ himself is suddenly ablaze.

Before Baekhyun’s mind can even teach itself to be afraid, Chanyeol gathers his tired form.

Chanyeol embraces him with such strong arms. His king carries him like a groom carries his bride and whispers soft assurances in his ears. It's almost perfect, it's the fulfillment of all handmaidens' fantasies, had it not been for the smell of smoke and the scene unfolding before Baekhyun akin to hell revealing itself unto them.

The sun itself is in Chanyeol's bright red eyes. For the first time in Baekhyun's life, he fears nothing; not the judgment of royalty, not the threat of warring nations, not even the possibility of his own demise. Not even death fazes him, not when he's seeing for himself how the legend of the Fire King came to life; how Chanyeol was _destined_ to hold the title.

Right now, Baekhyun is in the arms of the man that _fire_ itself cannot touch.

With a strange sense of calm, Baekhyun watches the flames grow. It crackles and hisses as it engulfs their bed whole, the least of their worries even as the great fire moves on to devour their tent. The ground itself under Chanyeol's feet flickers and burns a bright and impossible vermillion pyre. Chanyeol’s touch is the catalyst for burning. It could be none other than old magic, fire heeds no one else outside the tribes of the Il-Yeokan. 

All things burn, burn, and _burn_ until there's nothing left of their privacy’s ashes and, together with Chanyeol, Baekhyun finds himself the object of the Il-Yeokan’s heated gazes.

Being with an Il-Yeokan will ultimately lead to demise. None has ever returned from an encounter with the nomadic king. Baekhyun had thought that the tribe was simply so cruel that there weren't even bodies for widows and orphans to mourn, but now he knows what his father truly meant. When the patriarch told him that the Fire King desired a sacrifice, it wasn't _wrong_. 

Everything that the Il-Yeokan touches, _anyone_ that dares to touch the King of Fire, shall burn.

So Chanyeol now looks at Baekhyun with–something. So much _something_ that Baekhyun cannot describe. Excitement? Is it wild, passionate hope for new possibilities and the future, having found someone like Baekhyun after decades of being by his lonesome? Could there be fear? Of the unknown?

Chanyeol is waiting. To be rejected; to be denied; to be called a _monster_ , but–Baekhyun cannot bring himself to do any of that. If it were anyone else, they would strike this man down while he's vulnerable. But to Baekhyun, Chanyeol is fire and rubies and roses; Chanyeol is a king more worthy of reverence than his old fool of a father who easily threw him away to save himself; Chanyeol is proof that _Mama exists_ and She gives purpose to everything that is born. Baekhyun is baffled, and he knows he baffles Chanyeol as well when he buries himself in the junction of his king's neck instead of pushing the latter away. 

“Mine,” Baekhyun simply says as he presses himself closer to Chanyeol and wrap his arms around Chanyeol's neck. He remains unscathed in his king’s arms. 

All those years of asking a god that never answers; all those nights crying why he was born the brightest, the _beacon_ in a country that takes light for granted. All of those times now make sense when Baekhyun looks at the world’s wildest flame. Their union is proof that there is no fire without its light.

Only _he_ can withstand to share Chanyeol's bed. Only _he_ can be with Chanyeol. If Chanyeol is a monster, then he is, too. They _both_ are.

“ _Mine_ ,” Baekhyun repeats, savoring the warmth of his king's skin and letting his light press itself against its most beloved fire.

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol smile, inhaling the lingering scent of them together, before his mate whispers to him in response, “Akin.”

There are more words falling out of Chanyeol's lips after that. Baekhyun immediately finds himself wishing that he knew what all those words meant in that very moment, with all the intentions that Chanyeol uttered them with. They all sound so gentle, so… strangely filled with _adoration_ , when Chanyeol hoists him up and carries him closer to the man’s fire–the man's _heart_ –to kiss him, without an ounce of care whether the tribe watches.

In Chanyeol's arms, he feels not even the slightest caress of cold.

Baekhyun thinks that Chanyeol _could_ be home.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Yes_ , that's a cliffhanger.
> 
> I figured this draft has been sitting in my drive long enough. Compared to the prologue, it ends in a more optimistic note for Baekhyun, so my readers might as well have and enjoy it (and fill in the rest with your imagination ehehe).
> 
> \---
> 
> Regarding translation, the Il-Yeokan language is based on various Philippine dialects. They're a liiittle butchered versions of easy and 'common' (or obscure) words. Should I update again, expect puzzling exchanges with longer and complete sentences. I want you to relate to Baekhyun's 'language barrier' problem :D
> 
> For now, the translations are:  
> Ku / ko = my.  
> Akin = mine.  
> Dayang = more or less 'queen' (but I use it here to mean the 'partner or our king's most beloved')  
> An'tah na (tahan na) = a soft way to say, "stop crying."
> 
> That's it! Thanks for reading.
> 
> See you next time.


End file.
